


The Dangerous Edge

by lorilann



Category: Lost
Genre: Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2735342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorilann/pseuds/lorilann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's frame of mind after getting off the Island, never being allowed to return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dangerous Edge

Jack can barely remember a time when paper, pens, books and maps didn’t cover every inch of his life. When alcohol and drugs didn’t cloud his vision or thoughts. He still saves people, but that’s only because he can’t save himself. Jack will die trying to save others, just as he’ll die trying to stop feeling. The pills and alcohol create a fog he can hide behind, but that only lasts so long until _more more more_ is needed to get the welcomed fog back. It’s a vicious cycle that he’s on, but it’s the only thing he can count on anymore. 

His laugh is hollow when he thinks of the irony. On the Island, Jack's number one thought was how to get off the Island and now sitting in the dark, drinking, his only thought is how to get back to the Island. It’s a cruel fate that Jack’s left with craving something that is slipping farther and farther away. The elusive dream that Jack would give up everything and anything to get one last glimpse, smell, touch of. 

Every Friday out of LAX, he begs whatever listens for the turbulences to take the plane down with pain etching his features. With every Saturday’s return just another failure that’s rewarded with the laugh of a dead man. 

Jack’s been alone most of his life even when surrounded by others. His mother paid attention to him because he was his father’s son (that’s a compliment, smile and nod Jackie boy). Sarah because of mutual like, then obligation, now pity (watery smile, shake of her head because he’s not a good husband). Dear old dad when he needed a punching bag or a way to look better (stand straight, you like this, hate that, you only screw her when there’s no one better). 

On the Island, people looked to him for answers, reassurance, and peace of mind. Now no one looks to him in society, there’s movie stars and athletes to look to. 

Fifty-two round trips, eight hundred thirty-two hours sitting on planes with only little jolts that cause mind-blowing hope that’s dashed with a tinny voice saying all is well. 

Fifteen attempts that are all thwarted by someone needing to be rescued. But tonight I’m alone in this little box with maps spread all around me. An empty whiskey bottle on my left, laying on its side. Taking in as many aspects of my life now, jobless, unstable, friendless, no one to save anymore. 

When I first got off the Island, I bought a knife just in case. Just in case, I made it back to the Island, the need to be prepared in the event of my return. I’m prepared tonight for just this occasion. I want my last thought to be of my last day on the Island, tell Kate, “Because I love you.” The burn on my left wrist is a welcomed feeling, as is the feel of my warm blood pooling into my open palm.


End file.
